


One Shots

by hollydermovoi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:25:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollydermovoi/pseuds/hollydermovoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots based on tumblr prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidents

This had been a bad day.  
They’d been in the middle of their anniversary dinner when he’d been called into work- his superintendent had been sympathetic, but there were riots in London, and they needed everyone, even Sally, who was technically on maternity leave. He’d been suiting up when he noticed the weather- it was _pouring_ outside. What sort of bloody wanker staged a riot in _this?_ He’d zipped into his rain gear, and Mycroft had handed him an umbrella and he’d run out.  
It was several hours later now. The rain hadn’t let up one bloody bit, and the rioters were _still_ at it. There were some kids, not older than 10, who’d probably been on some sort of school outing that had gotten caught up in this mess. He’d put Sally in charge of barking out orders- he was still considerate despite the weather, cause she was pregnant- and had done his best to get the drenched, terrified kids out of there and into the relative safety of the yard.  
For some reason, the rioters took offense, and while he was hauling innocent children out of the fray, they started throwing things at him. He’d already been fighting a loosing battle with the brolly- it was sort of pointless to attempt to stay dry in this mess, but he could use it to prod the rioters apart, so it stayed on his person. So, he’d had one arm wrapped around a little girl, the other one brandishing the brolly, when this huge lug of a man had grabbed his arm (the brolly brandishing one) and broken it. If that hadn’t been bad enough, the man then threw him down and stomped on the broken arm and then kicked him violently. Last thing he remembered was the sound of thin metal snapping and realizing he’d broken Mycroft’s umbrella, and wasn’t _that_ a good gift on their anniversary, then everything went black.  
——  
When he woke up, he was in a hospital. His arm was in a cast, there were bandages around his ribs (he felt them when he tried to breathe) and an IV was clearly administering some sort of highly potent drug, because his field of vision was blurry, but he could feel Mycroft’s hand in his, and there was a little girl perched on his bed. He remembered smiling reassuringly at her before blacking out yet again.  
——  
Next time he woke up, the little girl was curled up at his side, fast asleep, and Mycroft’s PA was sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed, tapping away on her ever present blackberry. When she noticed he was awake, she gave him some water, answered his questions about what had happened (someone had apparently stunned the bloke kicking the shit out of him, and the little girl he’d been hauling out of the thrall had run to Sally and told her where he was, leading a rescue to his aid and then refusing to leave his side, making him wonder where her parents were) He was now in a private room, cared for by the best specialists in the world, all payed by Mycroft. He was up for a medal of honor, blah, blah, blah, and Mycroft was off doing negotiation in Tanzania.  
With this information, he allowed himself to fall asleep again.  
——  
The next time he woke up, he was alone with the little girl. She didn’t say anything, just sat there, looking at him with huge eyes and handed him her teddy bear when he asked her where her parents were. He was telling her a story of a smug detective and loyal doctor when Mycroft entered the room.  
——  
He stood there in the doorway, and listened as his husband of three years told a young child all about the Study in Pink, while leaving out that the victims of the scheme had actually died.  
He knew it was silly, but at times like this, he remembered that once his husband had been someone else’s husband, had been a father before his child had been killed in a hit and run. The grief had near killed Greg, and his wife had turned to affairs to cope. Greg loved children, but he understood that Mycroft wasn’t interested, so he parented other people’s children. He was a very popular godfather.  
No one knew who this child’s parents were. They didn’t even know her name- she’d refused to talk after she’d gotten someone to notice that Greg was getting hurt. He owed this child his husband’s life. And that debt _would_ be repaid.  
He frowned as he remembered Greg’s words as they’d dragged his barely coherent husband to the ambulance- John had been there, thank God, and had filmed Greg’s responses knowing that Mycroft would want to see for himself the extent of his husband’s damage. Greg hadn’t really been completely self aware at the time, but he’d apparently recognized John, because all he’d managed to do was beg John to tell Mycroft he was sorry for breaking his umbrella. As if the umbrella was more important than his _husband._  
So yes, Mycroft Holmes planned to fix this. He planned to make Gregory so aware of his importance that he’d never do such a silly thing like placing an umbrella’s importance above his own. He also planned a rather nasty punishment for the man who had put Greg on this bed.  
But now, he smiled at his husband, and he strolled forward to kiss him on his forehead, and successfully hid all thoughts of revenge and second honeymoons so he could chat about tea time with the queen with a nameless little girl.


	2. MorMor : Before the Now

Sebastian Moran was a very good sniper. And although he’d been dishonorably discharged from her majesties army, he still felt an immense amount of loyalty. It had taken Jim about two years of obsessive stalking and wooing to win Sebastian over. Though it wasn’t so much wooing as it was bribing, but that’s a different story.  
As he aimed his gun at Sherlock Holme’s infuriating head, Seb spared a moment to wish. He wished he’d been born near as intelligent as Jim, so he could be near as interesting to him. He wished he was in John Watson’s place, clearly loved by the crazy genius who he followed. He wished that he’d never shot his commanding officer for what he’d been doing to that girl. He wished quite a lot of things. But he didn’t shoot. He didn’t shoot, despite his need to, because the psychopath he loved had told him not to. He didn’t shoot because he was loyal.  
He did, however, resign. Didn’t give notice or anything, just shot the vest when all persons were clear and left.  
This time it only took about a week for Jim to track him down. And Sebastian Moran finally saw a spark of interest in those cruel eyes and thought to himself take that John Watson. Then he was being kissed and everything was good.


	3. JohnLock: Flu

John had a strong constitution- he had to, as a former army doctor and the current lover of one Sherlock Holmes. But sometimes the smallest thing could fell him, and Sherlock had worked himself into a tizzy because John had the flu. Greg could only stand to watch so much of it until he gave in to his desire to see John return Sherlock to a semblance of normalcy. So he forwarded an email to John with all of his best tips and tricks on how to combat flu and cure it. He never got any sign from Sherlock that the message was received until after John got better. Then John himself came to thank Greg for his unconventional method of kissing someone’s flu away. This flu remedy, he explained helped make progress in their relationship. Showed that Sherlock cared for his health more than the case. And that was as good as a declaration of love.  
While Greg never wanted to hear the words “progression in our relationship” from John ever again, he was still glad to have helped.  
Until, of course, Sherlock came down with the flu and blamed Greg’s cure. Then Greg cursed his desire to help.


	4. MorMor : First Time

Jim Moriarty had always thought of Sebastian Moran as a brainless moron, who happened to be very good at killing people. He really hadn’t thought there was anything to the man who simply nodded at his orders and followed them to the letter.So he was honestly surprised when he was proven wrong.

It started when a showdown with a client hadn’t gone quite as planned. He’d been wounded, and had flat out refused to go to their organizations medic. Moran, who’d escorted him to the meeting and had earned his salary by shooting the man in the head, had rolled his eyes in exasperation and had picked up Jim as if he was some worthless sack of potatoes rather than an impeccably dressed criminal mastermind (the client had destroyed his Westwood, the tosser) and slung him over his shoulder. Ignoring Jim’s protests, he’d carried his boss to his apartment where he proceeded to patch him up. Then he’d tied Jim to his bed and ordered him to rest.

The next morning, when Jim woke up, he felt rested. He was no longer tied up, and was lying next to a very warm and still asleep Sebastian Moran. Now Jim had noticed Sebastian had physical appeal, but he had dismissed it when he found out just how good a shot the man was. He so hated to sleep with his employees, they always wanted something from him after. But he was in a relaxed and indulgent mood, so he leaned forward and kissed Sebastian. Some time during the kiss, Sebastian started kissing back, and next thing you know, they were both naked.  
And as it turned out, Sebastian Moran was absolutely fantastic in bed. So fantastic, that Jim cancelled their meetings for the week and proceeded to shag him till neither had it in them to shag anymore. When they weren’t shagging they talked. As they talked, Jim learned many things about Sebastian that he hadn’t bothered to learn before.

Fact: He was a very good cook. The meals they ate where the best homemade meals Jim had ever had, and he’d once dated a five star chef.

Fact: Sebastian was better at strategies then Jim was. He beat the genius at chess 42 times before Jim acknowledged that maybe his winning wasn’t a fluke, but rather some very powerful talent that Jim hadn’t tapped before, which was unacceptable and would be remedied shortly.

Fact: Sebastian loved cats. Seriously, he owned two, and fed a feral colony that lived near by every day (Jim found this out by wondering why Sebastian needed to go for a walk ever night at 7 and following him). Sebastian showed his soft side, a side Jim had been certain he didn’t have seeing as he would willingly off children (no other agent would), whenever there was a cat nearby. He also seemed to show it towards Jim.

Fact: Sebastian Moran was _his_ , and there was nothing he, or anyone else could say to change that fact.


	5. JohnLock: Famous

Watching John get famous for being the lover of the lying Sherlock Holmes was one of the hardest things Sherlock had ever had to do. Bad enough that John had believed in his innocence, people whispered, but he’d literally gotten fucked over by his former flatmate and friend. Sherlock had been fucking him as a means to an end, people whispered. After all, the famous Sherlock Holmes had been asexual- surely he had forced himself to have sex with his flatmate(wrong, yes, he was asexual and wasn’t attracted to John per say, but he had enjoyed the sex with him), simply because he had an ulterior motive. He needed John’s complete loyalty people whispered.  
Years later, it filled his heart with joy to see John become famous for marrying the wrongly accused Sherlock Holmes. He had so much faith in his lover, people whispered, that he never gave up, even when everyone had believed those horrid articles.  
And even though Sherlock couldn’t pinpoint when he started loving his famous lover, he certainly knew why.


	6. Mystrade: Matchmaking

Why was he here again? Right, because Mummy and Anthea were both quite worried about his single status. Since multiple attempts to set him up with a woman had ended in disaster, they’d finally agreed to find him a suitable man.  
He didn’t have much faith in their ability to do so.  
Until Gregory Lestrade, former DI and longtime associate of his younger brother walked through the door of the restaurant.  
Suddenly, the night was a lot more interesting, and his faith in Mummy and Anthea’s matchmaking skills restored.


	7. MorMor : Fledglings

Jim Moriarty knew everything there was to know about Sebastian Moran but occasionally the man managed to surprise him, which of course, made him all the more interesting.  
It started when Sebastian didn’t show up. Jim had texted him, and asked him out, and Sebastian had said yes, but now he wasn’t here. If he didn’t show up, Jim would have to do something drastic.  
So he rang his sniper up, and when the harassed sounding sniper _finally_ answered the phone, Jim was not in a good mood. He could tell however, that Sebastian had genuinely forgotten, which worried him. Sebastian didn’t forget their dates. He always showed up early, dressed in that suit Jim loved, and always brought a little gift. Sometimes it was something big, like a piece of china he filched from a museum, other times it was something small, like a pebble he’d used to kill someone (it was possible, that’s how Seb had gotten this job, by proving its possibility). Jim cherished these gifts, and was more careful with them then he was with his Westwood suits, but Seb wasn’t here and he was token less.  
And if the screeching in the background was any indicator, Seb was in some sort of trouble. So using the GPS locator Seb had allowed him to implant in his leg for Christmas, he set out to find his sniper. He found the man in his apartment, which was also odd, because Seb basically lived with him.  
But the oddest thing was in Seb’s hands. The baby owl fixed him with round, luminous eyes before hissing warningly and screeching yet again. “The damn fluff balls refuse to eat.” snarled Seb angrily. Wondering, Jim searched till he found two more owlets sitting in a well lined box in the counter, all screeching hungrily. The noise was irritating, the fact that the tiny birds of prey had distracted his Seb even more so, but at that moment, he wouldn’t change a thing.  
Because if there was one thing that James Moriarty didn’t want to change about his Sebastian Moran, it was the man's huge and sometimes utterly ridiculous bleeding heart for all animals.


	8. Mystrade: Past Lives

It was Anthea who’d told him. He’d been making a scrapbook for Mycroft’s birthday (the Holmes had this obsession with scrapbooks) which included pictures from Greg’s rather more punk past, which he knew Mycroft hadn’t seen, as he hadn’t even had the film developed until that morning and Anthea had promised not to ruin the surprise. She’d taken a look at a picture of Greg in his leathers and chains and had laughed in a rather fond way. He’d asked her why she was laughing, and after some pleading, she’d spilled the beans.  
It turns out that his lover, the man he’d been with for five years and had lived with for four had once been a punk. And not only that, an anarchist punk. The phase had lasted only about eight months, but there were pictures, which he then got from Mummy Holmes and Sherlock, and had added them to the scrapbook, with the pictures of his own rather longer lasting yet just as secretive punk past.  
As he put the finishing touches on the book, he wondered how exactly he’d be able to convince his love to dress like that again for him. Maybe if he promised to wear a suit like Mycroft was always begging him to…


	9. Mystrade: Anniversary

Honestly Greg had forgotten. He still couldn’t quite believe that he and Mycroft werein a relationship, let alone on that had survived a year. He was so nervous about screwing this up that he totally failed to notice their anniversary. It didn’t help any that his professional competency was still being questioned, or that his dick of a superior had assigned him to a case of serial murders including mob members. Very scarily _friendly_ mob members- the bosses _grandmother_ had given him a basket of cookies and told him to share it with Mycroft- but mob members nonetheless.  
Mycroft had not forgotten. It’d taken him a good eight months for Gregory to agree to a date- there was no way he was going to forget something as monumental as making it a year, even without his loyal Anthea making sure to alert him, as did some of his other contacts. Most of his contacts liked Gregory- his patience, his friendliness, his helpfulness and most of all his compassion. He’d watched once, through CTTV as Greg had spent hours assisting a very scared little girl find her teddy, a case he’d assured her infuriated father wasn’t too unimportant for the Yard to work on. It certainly helped that the girl was the only beloved godchild to a secretly wealthy older gentleman, who had signed a deal that would ensure several select people job security as well health coverage, a deal he’d refused before he’d found out about Greg. Even Anthea and Dona Maria liked Greg- not all of his exes had received cookies after all. He was very aware however, that as wonderful as Greg was, he was not only very insecure in their relationship, but very bad with dates.  
He had a plan, which he knew his beloved would appreciate. First off, the Mob, who truly disliked Greg’s boss (he’d once called Dona Maria a daft old cow) were going to take him off for a little… _chat._ Then he was going to take Greg to his favorite restaurant, a lovely little restaurant ran by Dona Maria’s very friendly niece and her husband. He also planned on asking Greg to move in with him, and for that, he’d decided that his spacious townhouse would be the best place for them to live. It was a bit farther from the office, but he could always move the office, and his apartment was a lot smaller- they’d need as much space as possible for the strays he knew Greg would bring home.  
Around the time Mycroft was planning, Greg was politely kissing a mafiaso’s grandmother on the cheek and thinking that for once he might get home at a sane hour. His hopes were rather dashed when his superior emerged with a scowl from the bosses office, but before he could come within ten feet of him, he was stopped by one of the toughs near the door. He was able to escape without problem, and was ushered to a familiar looking car by one of the children from a group of kids that played in the front yard. As he slipped in to the car, the kid handed him a key. He sat in the car, looked at Anthea, who sat on the seat across from him. He politely said hello and she greeted with him with a smile and a small wave, and outright grinned when he gestured at the key.  
So he sat in the car, until it pulled up to a charming looking restaurant. “Mr. Holmes is waiting for you inside.” said Anthea quietly. He thanked her, and got out of the car. When he entered the restaurant, he scanned all the faces until he saw Mycroft’s. He headed to that table, and when he got there, Mycroft stood and politely pulled out his chair for him. That was one of the many things he appreciated about Mycroft- his gentlemanly gestures. He also appreciated Mycroft’s ability to leave him little gifts for him everywhere, all marked with an umbrella. He’d even found one at a crime scene once, while Mycroft had been on a business trip. It had filled him with warmth, and he’d been sure to thank Mycroft profusely. In fact, he’d flat out snogged the man, when before that, they’d stuck to relatively chaste kisses. That night, they’d shagged for the first time, and the wait had definitely been worth it.  
From the look on Gregory’s eyes, he was reminiscing about past romantic gestures. He’d done it accidentally at first, years of manners drilled into his head taking over the first time they dined together. The surprise and happiness on Gregory’s face had convinced him that he could allow the “posh prat” part of his nature, as one of his past lovers had put it, to run rampant. He wanted to always make Gregory that happy. And he looked forward to being able to do so more often in the future.  
The food, of course, was spectacular. Nina and her husband Benny were wonderful cooks, and the restaurant, named Sunrise, had a very pleasant atmosphere. He knew Gregory was enjoying it, which would make Dona Maria very happy indeed. He did love letting his diet lapse in the company of his boyfriend, who he knew appreciated everything about his body. They continued to focus primarily on the food- Gregory hadn’t eaten properly in days and was enjoying the delicious food, and Mycroft was more than happy to sit in silence and study his beloved. When they’d moved on to dessert, he took Gregory’s hand, and without wasting anymore time asked his all important question. “Gregory, will you move in with me?” Greg again, looked surprised. Pleasantly, he hoped.  
“Are you sure?” came the answer. ” ‘Cause I’m a slob, and I work crap hours, and I cannot, for the life of me resist a stray-” “Gregory.” he said firmly, tightening his grip on his hand. ” I love you. I love those things about you. And I wouldn’t ask you to move in with me if I wasn’t sure.”  
Greg considered it for a moment, then agreed. He then leaned over and kissed Mycroft.  
“Happy anniversary, love.” said Mycroft softly.  
Damnit, he _knew_ he’d forgotten something. But luckily for Mycroft, sometimes Greg was a very fast, very innovative thinker.  
He kissed Mycroft again. “Happy anniversary dear. Now tell me-” here he leaned closer to Mycroft so he could whisper in his ear “how would you feel about tying me up tonight?” From the look in Mycroft’s eyes, he’d nailed his kink .A game he’d been best at in the academy- most times he could even out do Sherlock. “Let’s go hun.” he purred. They left the restaurant after paying their bill and thanking the owners, and then had snogged in the car till they had reached the new townhouse (they’d wake up tomorrow to find that the ever efficient Anthea had moved all their stuff in and that Greg’s superior had disappeared, which lined a much nicer man up for the job) where Greg was promptly tied up and they’d had a great deal of fun indeed. And before they’d drifted off to Mycroft’s promise to buy proper supplies tomorrow so they could further explore this kink, Greg allowed himself to relax in the knowledge of Mycroft’s love and look forward to future anniversaries.


	10. Mystrade: Break Up

Mycroft Holmes had never been lucky in love. He knows its a matter of time before Greg breaks it off between them, but says nothing, preferring to cherish what time they had before it came to an end like every other relationship he’d ever been in had. Even after Greg moved in, Mycroft waited, for Greg to hate his long hours, or his insistence on killing dignitaries from Switzerland when he was stressed, or the diets, or because of Sherlock. There were hundreds of reasons that Greg might break up with him, and Mycroft was aware of every single one, breathing a sigh of relief every time Greg didn’t leave him- if anything, Greg seemed to find his flaws endearing. They both worked long hours, he reasoned. Switzerland had it coming- no country should be that perfect. Everyone had times when they wanted to eat healthier, did it really matter that Mycroft went on diets more often than most. And when the subject of Sherlock came up, Greg only chuckled and said that he’d known all about how bloody annoying that prat was, thanks, but that’s OK, everyone’s siblings were a little bonkers, though, granted, Sherlock was more so than some. Moments like these simply reminded Mycroft how bereft he’d be without Gregory in his life, which of course led to the “mysterious disappearance” of yet another dignitary. — They’d been together for six years when Greg started acting oddly. Having watched his beloved once go through a divorce, Mycroft was pretty sure that the end was now. His hand tightened on his phone, pressing the one number that would send out a text to his best assassin with the now familiar orders. It was a shame to off this one- she was doing so much good, so after carefully taking the time to refocus, Mycroft amended the message, asking the assassin to take out the dignitary from Belgium, conveniently forgetting that they were friends (He was later forgiven, and was even invited to their wedding). Then he sat in his office, and waited. But Greg hadn’t been about to break up with him. Greg had been about to propose. And Mycroft trying to cut to the chase and end it himself? Well that had resulted in what he’d feared for so long. Greg had left, and that was that.


	11. MorMor: Clumsy Wanker

It was so fucking _typical._ Jim Moriarty, his lover and the most dangerous man in England had been felled by a bloody curbstone!  
No really, stupid wanker had tripped over one and then gone tumbling down a small hill and right into the Thames.  
And it _really_ shouldn’t be this funny.  
But it was.  
So amidst his furious cursing as he dragged Jim’s dripping form to the doctors, Sebastian allowed himself a small reward and mentally chuckled at the absurdity of it all.  
After all, he had a criminal mastermind to pamper, even if the man had been taken down by a bloody piece of pavement.


	12. Mystrade: Missing You

They’d only been dating three weeks when Mycroft was first called out of town. As he sat in the plane on his way to an undisclosed location, he thought about the handsome and caring DI who he’d had to leave halfway through their dinner. Although Gregory had insisted he didn’t mind, Mycroft couldn’t help but think that the next time he would, or the time after that. And eventually, it’d be one time to many and the man would give up on him and break up with him. And his existence, so brightened by the presence of those chocolate eyes, silver hair and heartfelt laugh, would be bereft of meaning again. He missed his DI greatly.  
Meanwhile, cozy in his bed in London, Gregory woke up _missing_ something. It took him a while to wake up, but by the time he had, he figured out that he missed Mycroft Holmes. They hadn’t spent too much time together, and had slept together only twice, because the dashing gentleman had insisted they wait. And lord, the wait had been worth it. Mycroft Holmes, once you got past the icey exterior and stripped him of his many layers was a fantastic shag. A considerate on- who gave and took, but who always considered Greg’s pleasure as he did so. It wasn’t even just the bloody marvelous sex that he missed, Greg missed the man. He missed the man’s condescending comments on Greg’s superiors which never failed to make him laugh, he missed the notes he found on his desk and flat, reminding him to have a nice day and to please take out the trash. Mycroft had only been gone four hours, but it felt like four days. If someone had told him even two months ago that he’d fall this fast and this hard for the British government he’d have laughed and sent their arse to shrink for psychiatric help, but he had, and he _missed_ him.  
Needless to say, when Mycroft finally got home from that trip to lord knows where, Greg threw himself at him and shagged him right there in his posh car. And the next time Mycroft had to go on a trip, he didn’t miss his DI so much, because he knew he’d be there when he got home.


	13. Mystrade: Owls

Greg finally walked through his door after a long day of paperwork and irritating consulting detectives. He was looking forward to a nice cuppa when he noticed the owl sitting on his kitchen counter. “What the bloody hell…?” he muttered. The owls eyes popped open and it cheeped wearily before holding out a leg, attached to which was a letter. Cautiously, he removed the letter and opened it.

_Dear Mr. Lestrade,  
Please give me the honor of your presence post haste at my residence. Send an owl with your reply.   
Mycroft Holmes  
Ministry of Magic_

Well, he’d always known Holmes senior was lying about his job. Minor position in the government his arse. He’d just never imagined the man telling him about hid job working for the Ministry. After all, muggles like Greg weren’t supposed to know about magic at all. But he sent the owl back with his acceptance and waited for the flare of Floo powder or the pop of apparation.  
Mycroft being a Holmes and all, managed to surprise him by showing up on a broomstick. Bloody wizards and their owls and modes of transportation. He just wanted a cuppa and a smoke. Not tonight, he supposed.


	14. Mystrade: Tea cup

The first time they’d had a cuppa together, Greg had been terrified. This man- a man who was able to call on the superiors of Greg’s superior’s superior’s (yeah, try saying that five time fast, makes him sound like a wanker just thinking it)-was pouring him tea, into a cup that looked like it cost more than Greg’s house.  
Years later, drinking out of that same teacup, and much more relaxed, Greg smiled at the man he loved. _Some day_ , he thought to himself, _someday I’ll be able to ask him out to more than just tea._


	15. Mystrade: Dyslexic

Sometimes Greg had a good laugh at how much of a bloody wanker Mycroft Holmes could be.  
Because as much as he appreciated just how much he was trusted by him, the first time Mycroft had asked him for help with his reading he’d sounded like an arrogant tosser.   
_“Here.”  
A newspaper smacked him on the head.   
“Detective Inspector, please read me the crossword clues.”  
That was it? Mycroft Holmes had dragged him to this dark, damp warehouse because the arrogant prick couldn’t be bloody bothered to read his own damn crossword clues.  
That.  
Was.  
It.  
Before Mycroft could even think of reacting, he was gone. The next time Sherlock called him for a case, he’d refused. When John called, he refused again. When his supervisor called him in, demanding that he give Sherlock a case, he refused. And then he’d handed in his resignation. Because being a copper ,and a bloody good one at that, wasn’t worth being treated that poorly by anyone, and he’d taken that sort of abuse for years.He was done. But he was smart enough to acknowledge the fact that the Holmes brothers, in particular Sherlock, wouldn’t see it that way.  
So when a familiar black car pulled up to the curb as he stood on his porch fishing for his keys with one hand while holding his groceries in his other, he simply waved at the driver and entered his flat. After he put his groceries away, he went back downstairs, locked his door and walked to the car. When the door opened he entered it.  
For once, it was him and Mycroft. No Not-Anthea, or other henchman, just him and Mycroft Holmes.  
Bloody. Hell.  
The silence was ridiculously awkward. Greg sat there and twiddled his thumbs as the car headed God-Knows-Where and Mycroft seemed engrossed by his phone. Finally Mycroft deigned to make eye contact with him, fixing him with what he referred to somewhat affectionately as the impenetrable-I’m-deducing-your-toothpaste-brand-Holmesian gaze.  
More silence ensued.  
Finally Mycroft sighed, and handed him the crossword again.  
“Please, Inspector, read me the clues.”  
Greg felt anger flood his system. His hands balled into fists as his teeth clenched. He ws right about to tell Mycroft Bloody Git Holmes where to shove it when Mycroft held up one hand.  
He’d learned long ago what to do when that hand went up. Shut up- or you’ld be stuck with grunt work until you worked your way back into his good graces. It was against his very strong inner voice of reason, but he shut up every time.  
“Please.” Mycroft- whispered? He almost sounded vulnerable. This. Was. Weird. “Please. Gregory. Please, read me the clues.”  
So he did. And Mycroft cut him off with the answers right when he the answer was on the tip of his tongue. It was infuriating.This continued for what felt like hours- once they finished the first puzzle, Mycroft handed him another, then another. After the twentieth puzzle, Greg lost count. They never actually ended up any place, just went on and on in the car, puzzle after puzzle. They only stopped when Greg’s voice gave out- Mycroft gave him some water, and some resting time, and then would ask him to start up again.  
Finally, Mycroft held up the hand again- Greg stopped in the middle of reading out the clue for Down 16 ( A word which by definition means highly unlikely, wildly fanciful, 10 letters, Greg thought it was Chimerical) “You see, Detective Inspector, I am dyslexic. Very few people know this- Sherlock, of course, and Anthea, and now, you. I can work with it relatively easily during work, but it’s highly stressful to do so in my own free time. That’s why I need people I can count on to read out my crosswords. Please, do not tell anyone of this- you shall be compensated for your time today, and seeing as your resignation has been mysteriously misplace, I expect you to return to the Yard tomorrow. The Inspectors there have become quite intolerable since you left. We’ve arrived at your flat. Have a nice day.”   
Completely at a loss for words Greg got out of the car. He was someone Mycroft Holmes trusted enough to tell about a learning disability- something that could be seen as a weakness in his line of work. He had no clue what he’d done to earn such respect, but he was damn sure going to do everything in his power to keep it._  
Four weeks later, Mycroft had asked him out. Tonight was going to be their first date, and quite frankly, Greg couldn’t wait.


	16. Mystrade: Bloody Awful Day

It had been a bloody awful day. And not just in the irritated, swearing sense. Literally, it had been a bloody, awful, very long day.  
Greg had been moved from his office because Sherlock decided it would be a good idea to poor sulfur all over the floor. He’d been moved to Handel’s windowless basement office in the middle of June. It was sweltering hot. And then there’d been the murder. The bodies had been left on metal, split open. And hadn’t been seen for days-till they started to stink. It had been a horrible spell. And as it turned out, the murderer had still been there.  
He’d stabbed both Greg and John and bolted. Sherlock, the wanker, had flat out refused to chase after the bloke, leaving Anderson, of all people (Donovan had been out sick) to chase him. The only thing good about this day is that Anderson had grabbed the guy.  
As he’d been driven off in the ambulance, he thought of how he no longer had insurance, because the yard had been forced to make cuts and had taken all who had financially independent spouses off insurance. Problem was, no one knew where his bloody wife was. She’d flown off with her P.E teacher, leaving him with the girls, who were terrified that he’d leave next.  
Then an ambulance tech had dumped coffee on his wound. Accidentally, of course. John had been dragged off by Sherlock, so he had no sane companions that would call his girls and tell him where he was.  
He’d feigned unconsciousness while being gurney-ed through the emergency room doors, so he avoided all questions about insurance. He was blissfully drugged into numbness. He could here his girls screaming for him. That’s when he realized that somehow, Sherlock had let them know Dad was hurt, and somehow, they’d gotten here on their own.  
Well, that’s what he thought.  
Till Mycroft Bloody Holmes ruined it. He ordered Lestrade be moved to his facilities, had Lestrade and his girls helicoptered to some mansion in the middle of nowhere, and had simply kissed away any attempts Greg made to talk. It was when he handed Jenna a kitten and Andi a puppy that Greg realized that maybe, just maybe, this day wasn’t so awful after all.


	17. Mystrade: Rodeo

They were in America visiting Mycroft’s aunt when Brokeback Mountain came out. For some reason that completely escaped him they decided to go see it.  
Now Mycroft had little faith in American cinema and American actors, and found the belief upheld by the movie. He was unable to comprehend the plot or dialogue and he wasn’t quite sure how exactly they ended up copulating in a tent. He would normally just leave, but every time he glanced at his beloved, Gregory looked absolutely entranced. So he sat it out, enduring riding scenes and an obscene amount of sheep. When the men married and continued their affair, often not as subtly as they could have been, he noticed Greg shifting uncomfortably and knew that it had hit a little to close to home. At that point he gave up trying to pay attention to the movie and paid attention to Greg instead.  
And at the end of the movie, when the black haired rodeo rider ended up…dead? he looked at his beloved again, this time to scoff at the homophobic content in the supposedly gay friendly film, and found to his dismay that Gregory was crying. 

Gregory was about as comfortable as showing his sorrow as he was- so Mycroft was desperately attempting to figure out how to fix this as fast as he could. He failed to notice that the movie had ended and credits were rolling, or that Greg was wiping off his face.  
——  
Greg turned towards Mycroft to apologize for his emotional lapse and noticed the tiny crease on his forehead that indicated unhappiness, so he hugged him. Now normally, one does not get away with hugging the British Government, but Gregory Lestrade hadn’t been considered normal for years, not since he first met a junkie named Sherlock Holmes. So then he started talking, forgetting for a moment Mycroft’s unhappiness and started telling him all about his cousin Joseph.  
——  
Turns out Greg had a relative who’d been a victim of a hate crime. That explained his unhappiness, so Mycroft just sat there in the cinema and listened.  
And when Greg was finally quiet again, Mycroft Holmes, former MI6 operative and a widely acknowledged Ice Man, said corniest thing he’d ever said in his life.   
“I ain’t quitting you, Gregory.”  
And he never did


	18. Mystrade: Normal

Mycroft loved Gregory Lestrade. But he often wondered if the man wouldn’t prefer being with someone less dangerous, someone more normal. So he went and he talked to John, which was humiliating, because the good doctor had laughed before he’d realized that Mycroft was serious. After that, the kindness often associated with John shone out, and he kindly helped Mycroft pick out an outfit, and even gave him some pointers on how to act less overbearing. And although it was humiliating, he actually enjoyed spending time with John. So with his new outfit, and borrowed attitude, he set out towards his date with Greg.  
As they sat there in the pizza parlor, Mycroft talked about mundane, normal topics, like rugby, and the weather. And while Mycroft appreciated and cherished the happiness and affection that lit up Greg’s eyes, he’d never been more bored in his life. But he wanted Greg to be happy, and normality made him happy, so Mycroft was willing to change for him.  
He failed to notice Greg’s concern and growing discomfort, until they were back in the car that had picked Greg up and dropped them off. And then Greg exploded. “What the hell are you up to Mycroft?” he demanded. Mycroft was surprised-he’d thought Greg was happy. “I’m being _normal,_ my dear.” he said finally, confused. At Greg’s incredulous look, he felt his confidence waver. ” I thought it’d make you _happy_.” he said, tilting his head downwards. He felt Greg’s hand on his chin before it gently raised his head till his eyes were fixed on Greg’s. And while his eyes were still mad, there was a smile on his handsome face.  
“Oh _Mycroft_.” said Greg affectionally before kissing him. When the kiss ended, Greg was outright grinning. “Mycroft I like the way you _are_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciated having someone to talk rugby with, but that person doesn’t have to be _you_. You don’t have to _change._ ” He kissed Mycroft again, then leaned back and grinned. And Mycroft could feel himself returning the smile, before he pulled Greg to him and kissed him again. “You’re bloody _fantastic_.” said Greg, as he groaned in appreciation. “Thank God for that.” said Mycroft before he moved to kissing Greg’s neck and shoulders.  
After all, normality was over rated.


	19. Mystrade: Flying isn't much fun

Whenever Greg talked about his Grandparents, he always looked wistful and commented on how he wished he had the time and money to visit them in France, while he still could. Unbeknownst to him, Mycroft took note of this wish.  
He sometimes wondered why Gregory didn’t simply ask him if Mycroft could arrange a trip to France. After all, Mycroft certainly had the money, and he could arrange for Gregory to have the time off. As he grew to know Gregory, he realized that unlike many lovers in his past, Gregory did not expect him to use his power and resources to impress him, or keep him around. It was such an impressive change that Mycroft vowed to do everything he could to keep Gregory content. And that’s how they had gotten to this point.  
He’d arranged everything in secret- the time off, the jet, the cooperation of Gregory’s colleagues and grandparents, and of course, the cooperation of Sherlock, which had been surprisingly easy for once. So on the night of their anniversary, he had spirited Gregory into the jet and they had set off for France. And as they flew, Greg’s grip on his arm got tighter, and he passed it off as excitement.  
——  
Greg was cursing himself for ever mentioning France to Mycroft. Don’t get him wrong, he loved the sheer romanticness of the gesture, as well as the fact that he’d finally be able to see his grandparents again, but he bloody hated flying.  
It had all started with a simple fear of heights and the sheer terror of being thousand of miles off the ground (or so it had seemed). But then his Da had started yanking his chain, joking about the instability of the airplane, and the likeliness of a crash. It was all fun and games, he had protested, when Ma had berated him for going to far. Yeah, it was all fun and games- till someone had a panic attack. Years later, Greg still hated flying, preferring to travel by any other means than through the air.So he gripped Mycroft’s arm a little tighter and tried to think of happier thoughts- like being caught in sleet with Sherlock and a triple homicide.  
——  
They had a lovely time in France, visiting Gregory’s lovely grandparents, and eating all of the Parisian food they could get their hands on, though Mycroft was very conscious about his diet and weight. They made love often, and it was the best and most relaxing vacation either had had in years.  
It was on their way back that Mycroft finally noticed. It began in the airport terminal. Before even boarding the jet, Mycroft saw Gregory physically brace himself before attempting to calm himself . When Gregory saw him staring at him he flushed bright red and grinned sheepishly. ” I’m not a real fan of flying,” he said quietly. “I mean, your jet is _great_ , and I _really_ loved our time in France, but I _really hate flying_.” He then grinned reassuringly. “I’ll be fine though, don’t worry.”  
Mycroft felt horrible. How had he failed to notice his beloved’s fear of flying? He reached out and grabbed Gregory’s hand before rubbing it soothingly. “Don’t worry dear.” he said in his most assuring voice “I promise, this time, you won’t even notice we’ve ever left the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for now- feel free to give me more prompts. Can't guarantee they'll be filled, but they'll be considered.


End file.
